The story of Rapunzel - capture and liberation
by LuminationPresenter
Summary: The story of Rapunzel as she reaches adolescence. But what are the true facts? Do you really believe that story about the witch forcing her real parents to give her up? Was Rapunzel always the blameless victim? Was the witch really so bad? And was Rapunzel's prince a great hero? Find out! This retelling will force you to reconsider all your former assumptions. Please R & R.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It was nearly sunset. A tall tower stood in the middle of a large clearing in the middle of the wood. The figure of a tall woman dressed in black could be seen at the base of a stone tower, looking up. "Rapunzel, let down your hair!" she called. A long dark braid came tumbling out of the window and the woman climbed up it with surprising quickness.

Rapunzel gazed out over the landscape, wishing that her long braid did not shackle her. She longed to be free of the tower. But there was the witch, sweeping into the room, her long black dress rustling as she walked. Her face was a vivid green in the lamplight. She carried a plate of steaming broth and a bowl of freshly cut salad. Rapunzel sighed. The witch was the only person she had ever known. That startlingly green face of hers was the only familiar face. The only face she saw up close. She could only see the rest of the world through pictures in books and her enchanted mirror. Rapunzel wondered why she had been saddled with a mother like the witch. A mother who kept her here, cut off from the world outside and allowed her hair to grow to such a ridiculous length.

"Good day witch," said Rapunzel.

"Call me 'mother,' understand?" admonished the witch, laying the meal on the table. "Now eat your dinner and be grateful." She pushed her long black hair away from her face with one bright green hand and pushed the salad bowl to Rapunzel with the other. "I feel a strong sense of nostalgia whenever I make this salad," she said with a sigh.

"Yes, you do look different," said Rapunzel staring at her mother's face intently.

"Really?" asked the witch with a small smile, touching her green cheek.

"Yes, you look greener," quipped Rapunzel.

The witch breathed hard and glared at Rapunzel with those coal black eyes. "Say you are sorry," she said, her voice trembling.

Rapunzel continued to goad her. "I was thinking that I must be adopted, right? I don't have your looks…" Rapunzel felt her arm being raised and her own hand, grasped by an invisible force, slapped her soundly across the face.

"Ow!" yelled Rapunzel. She was about to make an angry exclamation, but thought better of it.

"No bedtime story tonight," said the witch. "I will speak to you again when you've learned to be a loving daughter."

She stormed out of the room. Rapunzel looked dejectedly out of the window. In the dying rays of the setting sun she could make out a boy riding a black mare. He was riding towards her. She felt excited. She could make him out. He was a beautiful sight…

The witch was in her quarters lying down to calm herself. Her mind was caught up in reminiscing. Her daughter could be so difficult. Could she really doubt who her mother was…? But she had not told her the entirety of how it had happened. It had been a baking hot midsummer's day. She had been staying in that detached summer house she had in the village outside the wood. A boy had come knocking at the door begging for fresh vegetables. His parents must have ordered him to do so. She had liked this turn of fate. He was devastatingly handsome and in need of her help. Furthermore if she had made a boy from clay she would personally be attracted to he would have been it. He had everything, he was tall and athletic, with dark brown hair, thick enough for her to run her green fingers through. He had eyes of the bluest blue, like a fresh spring sky, a freckled nose and a strongly defined jaw with just a hint of shadow. When she said she could help he smiled the most beautiful smile she had ever seen, that made kissing him full on the mouth all the sweeter. She had been so lonely and had wanted to have a baby to keep her company. She knew men would be put off by her cursed green skin and she could not bring herself to compel or trick any poor man into being with her. But now she could consider it her due. For giving this lad her choice vegetables and herbs he would give his seed to her. She remembered his sweet embrace, coming together in a delicious tangle of limbs. She had known she couldn't keep him with her, he had his own life to live and some beautiful sweetheart with a pink and white complexion in his future. But she could keep their daughter. She was the one who had groaned and suffered to give her life. She had not even burdened that sweet and simple boy with the knowledge that he was a father. Why couldn't their daughter be as agreeable as him? Adolescent girls were so difficult. So ungrateful. She wished she had a son instead. One who would just do what she said and would remind her of his father by his looks. The witch picked up an old velvet doll from beside her bed and clasped it to her bosom. As she drifted off to sleep she wept, the glistening tears rolling down her green face and soaking her pillow.

Rapunzel gazed out of the window. The mysterious rider had ridden up to the base of the tower. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," he called out. Rapunzel smiled. Well her dear mother had taught her to respond to that command. She clasped her long braid and as though it had a will of its own, it slid out of the window, dangling all the way down to the ground. In a short time, the rider had climbed through the window. "Good evening," said Rapunzel peering at him intently. She had never seen a boy or a man up close before. He had golden hair that gleamed in the lamplight and eyes as blue as fragments of a summer sky. His skin was flawless. He smiled at her with teeth of pearly whiteness.

"Good evening to you, beauteous maiden," he said beaming at her.

"Let me see your face – sir," she said. He moved close to her and she caressed his cheek. She frowned. She could feel a slight growth of whiskers around his jaw that had not been easily visible. She and the witch both had silky smooth faces.

"I read that men should shave?" she said.

"It has been a hard ride for me Miss," he said with an apologetic shrug.

"Oh and you haven't asked me my name, I think you should have been curious as you are a man," she said, cocking her head to one side and gazing quizzically into his blue eyes.

"So sorry, I am Lancelot from the southern kingdom," he said. "And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Rapunzel will do," she replied. "Lancelot… so you were named after that great mythic figure?"

"Yes sweet Rapunzel, my mother loved his story," he said brightly. "So are you alone in this tower?"

"No I live with my mo-" began Rapunzel, but then she frowned. "A witch holds me captive here and won't ever let me go," she pouted.

"A witch? The tall woman I saw earlier at a distance? She told you to let down your hair?"

"She is a mean woman, frightening, with bright green skin and awful glaring eyes," said Rapunzel, relishing giving these details when her mother could not hear.

Lancelot peered at her frowning intently. "I believe your hair to be a work of magic," he said. "I believe that a witch has laid a spell on you. I should like to free you, good maiden. I consider it my duty. But I am as yet uncertain. I don't want to hack at your lovely hair for I am no barber."

"Oh try anyway, then you could take me away on your horse," said Rapunzel. "First, can I touch you again? That mean old witch never lets me mingle with other normal people."

She touched Lancelot's chest. He felt strong. No lumps on his chest like the witch had. She felt the muscles of his arms and smiled. "I think your short hair is the best," she told him confidingly. "Even the witch's hair gets into her face sometimes. And as for mine… it's just ridiculous to have it this length. Oh by the way, I must remember my manners. Men like ale I think? Does the witch keep any? Let me see…" Rapunzel stood up and began to rummage through a cupboard.

"Good Rapunzel there is no need and we have not the time," protested Lancelot. "We must escape from this place."

"Mm?" said Rapunzel, and as she turned she accidentally knocked over an earthenware jug, sending it crashing to the ground. "Oh no!" she gasped.

"Oh Rapunzel," said Lancelot, his mouth open with horror.

There was the sound of footfalls and the door to the room swung open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The witch stood there in the doorway, swathed in a black nightdress, her long black hair dishevelled. Her dark eyes went wide as she saw Lancelot standing there and she gave a small gasp. Then she regained her composure, her dark green lips came tightly together and she glared at him. "How dare you break in here!" She rumbled, her voice taking on such a scary tone as Rapunzel had never had to hear before.

"He did not break in, I invited him," squeaked Rapunzel.

The witch turned to her daughter. "You are not hurt?" she asked, anxiety evident in her voice.

Rapunzel felt emboldened. "You said you wouldn't speak to me, so I needed someone to talk to," she said truculently. "And Lancey here will take me away with him on his fine black mare, to his wonderful kingdom. .."

"Silence!" Snapped the witch, her tone conveying there would be trouble for her defiant daughter later. She swept over to Lancelot and gripped him by the shoulders. He had not moved or spoken, he only stared up into the witch's face as if transfixed.

"Hmm, you are a mere boy," murmured the witch staring into his sky blue eyes. "I'm letting you go with this warning. Don't think to be a hero, understand? Don't meddle in things which don't concern you." She clutched him by the chin with one hand and brought her face very close. "I might not let you go a second time," she whispered, staring unblinkingly at him. He began to tremble. "Oh pull yourself together," she sighed. "Here, sit down first and have a drink to calm you down," she pulled out a chair and sat him down on it. Neither of the children spoke as the witch busied herself preparing boiling water and an infusion. Rapunzel frowned at Lancelot. She had expected him to take charge of the situation. Was he not really a hero? The witch had said before that the idea of man's superior strength was just a myth. It would be a shame if she were right.

"Drink that," said the witch, pushing a mug of a sweet smelling infusion towards Lancelot. He hesitated. "Don't be ridiculous," said the witch. Lancelot sipped at the brew. Apparently finding no ill effects he finished it off. The witch sat by Rapunzel without saying a word. When Lancelot had finished his brew, she took him by the hand and marched him out of the room. She watched dejectedly through the window as Lancelot rode away into the night and the witch stood there, tall and silent, watching him go. Rapunzel felt apprehensive as she waited for her mother to return. How angry would she be?

Soon enough, the witch came sweeping back into the room. "I'm a little worried about him riding around at night," she said, half to herself. She sat back down at the table opposite Rapunzel and fixed her daughter with her penetrating stare. "I think you know why you are in trouble now don't you dear?" she said. "Look at me," she added, her voice remaining calm. Rapunzel sulkily stared at the witch's chest. "At my face," said the witch, a note of warning in her voice. Rapunzel reluctantly looked up into the green face before her. "I know what you've been up to so don't bother to say anything," said the witch. "You were filling that silly boy's head with nonsense. You are never to take advantage of any simple boy, understand, I won't have it." To Rapunzel's amazement, it seemed her mother's voice was trembling. Her eyes were oddly bright. "I think I know what you told him about me," she said. "I am you mother – frankly I think it would have been better if you had inherited my green skin." The witch smiled. "A little lesson is in order, don't you think?" she reached out and started rubbing a rag of strongly smelling material into Rapunzel's face. Rapunzel gave a little cry. The rag felt wet and cold. "Hush darling, there it is done," said the witch, removing the rag. "Here, take a look," she held out a little mirror. Rapunzel gasped. Her own face was now a vivid green, just like her mother's. Her lips were that same darker green, almost black. Her extremely long dark hair and her bright brown eyes were unchanged, but her face was now like that of a stranger. "What have you done?" said Rapunzel weakly.

"I will take that spell off when you've learned to be a loving daughter," said the witch serenely. "Only I can do it. Water won't work." Rapunzel began to cry. The witch held her close, sitting her on her knee and rocking her. "It's for your own good little lamb," she murmured. "How do you think I felt when the one I love most in the world insulted me, hmm? You don't have to stay like this forever, you just have to love me as much as I love you. I on the other hand can never have a natural complexion. Think of that." Rapunzel pressed her face into her mother's nightgown, soaking the material with her tears. "Let it out," breathed the witch. "I'm here sweetheart."

"You are yes," Rapunzel found herself saying thickly as she wept.

The witch cuddled Rapunzel tightly to her. "Oh Rapunzel why did you ever have to hurt me with your words?" she moaned. "How could you think of clearing off with that young simpleton?" she choked. To Rapunzel's astonishment it seemed that the witch was crying too. She blinked back her own tears and boldly reached up, brushing a tear away from her mother's bright green cheek. She peered into those black eyes which now shone bright with tears.

"But I did not leave, did I mother?" she said. "I might say things, but it's not as though I'd ever do them. My whole life is here with you." She laid her head on her mother's shoulder breathing slowly to get her sobs back under control.

"Oh come on, let's get to bed," said the witch standing up and lifting Rapunzel in her arms. "Come on my little rascal," she gave a chuckle. "I cannot refrain from speaking to you for long, whether or not it does me good." She carried Rapunzel to her bedroom and they sat together on the bed.

"Tell the story about that silly old knight, Don Quixote," begged Rapunzel. "He was old, but I think he was just like the funny boy who burst in on us."

The witch dabbed at her shining face with a lace handkerchief and gave another chuckle. "They'd make such a sweet and funny pair," she said. Rapunzel curled up in her lap and listened as the familiar story washed over her. The witch had such a soothing story-telling voice. When she had finished she didn't leave. Rapunzel snuggled into the folds of her nightgown and drifted off to sleep. When she awoke the next morning, she found her face was returned to its normal pink and white complexion and her lips returned to their natural rosy hue.


End file.
